


The Particular Annoyance of Apple Pie

by Madlyie



Series: The Life and Times of a Sullen Coffee Shop Employee [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Joly and Bossuet are adorable dorks, M/M, Montparnasse debates moving to Antarctica, Multi, Musichetta is life goals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7148384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madlyie/pseuds/Madlyie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are not many things that are worse than two pining, oblivious idiots. Three pining, oblivious idiots are one of these things. As if all the official idiots in love weren’t already doing their best to make Montparnasse’s life a living hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Particular Annoyance of Apple Pie

**Author's Note:**

> These get longer and longer as they go. Probably because I have way too much fun writing these. Enjoy! ♥

 

***

 

Smiling, in Montparnasse’s opinion, is profoundly overrated.

It’s an unnecessary exertion of muscles, it’s exhausting and fake anyway, most of the times.

Montparnasse mostly doesn’t bother when he doesn’t feel like it. Mostly meaning never. Except for maybe once in a month, or twice for some very, very special occasions. Even though he couldn’t really name one off the top of his head. But it probably happened. He thinks.

The door to the coffee shop opens.

The man that comes in is tall, dark-skinned and sports a grin so wide that it could put Courfeyrac’s to shame. It makes his eyes light up and his whole face just _shines_ and Montparnasse. Stares. He can’t really help it. It’s kind of unreal.

Like, it’s 7.30. What the fuck is _wrong_ with people?

 

He’s so distracted, and shocked frankly, that he almost misses Marius coming in behind the man.

“Morning, Parnasse! How are you?” he asks which is ridiculous because he actually looks like he expects an answer. Montparnasse wordlessly glares at him and Marius’s smile falters a little but he doesn’t leave. He never does which is something Montparnasse has come to begrudgingly accept but that doesn’t mean he can’t try from time to time.

“That’s Bossuet,” Marius introduces the other man. “Bossuet, that’s Montparnasse.”

“Hey man, nice to meet you!” Smiling-guy says and smiles. Like he actually _means_ it.

The smile has done a good job so far distracting from the absolutely hideous abomination of a knitted beanie he’s wearing on his head. It’s difficult to decide which one of these things deserves Montparnasse’s judging stare more.

Thankfully Courfeyrac takes the decision from him when he steps out of the kitchen with a tray of blueberry muffins and Marius’s and smiling guy’s attention turns to him and away from Montparnasse.

“Hey Courf, that’s-,”

“Oh hey, Bossuet!” Courfeyrac exclaims and well, it’s not very surprising Courfeyrac knows the guy because Courfeyrac knows everyone.

Marius does look a bit disappointed but lights up when Bahorel follows Courfeyrac.

“Bahorel, that’s-”

“Bossuet! My man, how’s it going, dude? Jeez, it’s been ages!”

Marius visibly deflates.

“Oh my god, can’t you be quiet, what the hell, man,” Grantaire groans from the floor. He looks like a normal person at 7.30. Tired, grouchy and hungover. Montparnasse can appreciate that.

Bahorel grins. “Get your lazy ass up, you’re supposed to be working.”

Grantaire grumbles something under his breath but heaves himself up on until he stands halfway steadily on his feet. “Oh, hey Bossuet.”

Marius looks like he’s about to cry which would be a certain turn for the better for Montparnasse’s morning but because of course he can’t have nice things Marius doesn’t.

Instead he asks, disbelieving, “You know him too?”

Grantaire blinks, blinks again and only laughs.

Marius throws his hands in the air. “Does _everyone_ know him?”

 

Oh no.

 

“Yes,” Montparnasse says. Maybe too quickly. Dammit.

“Really?” Smiling guy frowns a bit but not unkindly. “How do-”

“Yes,” Montparnasse says.

Marius looks back and forth between them. “You’re joking,” he eventually decides very, very slowly and Montparnasse carefully keeps any emotion from showing on his face.

“No.”

“Yes,” Marius says more surely, “Yes, yes, you do. You don’t know him, oh my god, so the story-”

When Marius starts talking Montparnasse wonders, not for the first time, if he really did that many bad things to deserve _this._

Bossuet smiles and it’s quite a new sensation, wanting to punch another person more when Bahorel is already in the room.

 

***

 

In the course of the morning Montparnasse comes to the conclusion that smiling is the default setting of Bossuet’s face.

It’s irritating.

He smiles genuinely, at Montparnasse’s scowls and Grantaire’s sarcastic comments. He smiles at Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s couple-y grossness and Enjolras and Grantaire’s excuse-for-flirting-arguments. He smiles at Bahorel’s brashness and Marius’s excessive rambling.

He smiles and never once looks like he doesn’t mean it and Montparnasse is, well, reluctantly fascinated to be quite honest.

“Does he ever stop?” He asks Grantaire nodding at where Bossuet sits with Marius, Combeferre and Enjolras at their usual table. “Smiling, I mean.”

‘“Bossuet? Nah, not really.” Grantaire raises an eyebrow. “Why? You want him to stop?”

Montparnasse shrugs. “Don’t care. But. Surely it hurts?”

Grantaire blinks.

He opens his mouth to say something, and closes it again.

There’s something in his expression that Montparnasse can’t quite place, something like sympathy maybe, but it’s gone before he can be sure it was there.

In the end he simply says, “I don’t know.”

Montparnasse doesn’t ask further.

 

***

 

He might have been spared from the morning shift on Tuesday but that still doesn’t mean Montparnasse’s mood is good enough to stand Enjolras’s and Grantaire’s weird courtship ritual - which basically constitutes of a lot of talking, definitely too much lip licking and staring into each other’s eyes while forgetting to drink their coffee - without rolling his eyes every other minute.

The doorbell rings and he wishes he could throw one of the knives he has in his boots at it but that would probably put off the customers. Not that Montparnasse would have a problem with that but Courfeyrac insists it’s ‘not good for business’.

Bossuet steps inside and next to him is a tiny man with thick black hair that would probably be enough for Bossuet too. His bangs are dyed blue and small glasses nearly slide from his button-up nose. He’s wearing a jeans-with-jeans ensemble that makes Montparnasse want to rip it off of him for completely non-sexual and purely disgust-based reasons.

He grins and he couldn’t look more like Bossuet while at the same time looking nothing at all like Bossuet.

So there’s two of them.

Which is just.

Splendid.

“Hi, you must be Montparnasse! I’m Joly.”

‘You gotta be kidding me,’ Montparnasse wants to say but that might make him seem interested in a personal conversation. Or any conversation. He decides to settle on, “What do you want?”

Because that’s kind of his job.

Joly keeps grinning unfazed. “Oh, I’ll have a soy latte and… Bossuet, you want to share a piece of apple pie?”

“You know I’m not going to say no to freakin’ apple pie.”

“Yay!”

 

Montparnasse is _appalled._

 

“I’m going to say hi to R, yeah?” Joly says and saunters away. His shoes are blue too.

He doesn’t even know anymore.

When he catches a glimpse of Bossuet’s face though, the expression on it is nothing but full of awe and love-struck.

Montparnasse is way, _way_ too familiar with that expression.

Not. again.

Please.

But when he turns back to Bossuet after finishing their order the man hasn’t moved an inch which is an unquestionable, terrible affirmation of Montparnasse’s suspicion.

Maybe, he thinks, he should move to Antarctica. It seems like a much more pleasant option. He might freeze to death but he is going to accept that possibility because at least the penguins wouldn’t attempt to bother him with their fucking pining.

 

***

 

Montparnasse is not delusional so he knows that when Joly and Bossuet show up for the third day in a row, that there’s not even a minimum of a chance to get rid of them anymore.

They sit next to the counter chatting with Grantaire who turns out to have known them for ages and sort of sometimes lives with them.

Which is, well, not a thing Montparnasse knew about Grantaire.

They obviously scared the hell out of Enjolras with their shovel talk that they, according to Bossuet, had practised for five days and Montparnasse can admit that for once that’s an information he doesn’t mind hearing. Mostly because Joly looks as terrifying as a baby rabbit - if baby rabbits had glasses and a very questionable fashion sense - but Enjolras still pales when they mention the incident.

He catches Montparnasse’s expression that might have been a little bit too gloating then deliberately turns around to Grantaire and drops a kiss on his temple right above his eyebrow.

“Worth it though,” he says and Grantaire blushes.

Montparnasse shivers in disgust and makes it very obvious that he’s glaring at Enjolras for the rest of the week.

 

***

  
Montparnasse learns that there’s more to Joly and Bossuet’s package deal on a day when he comes in for a late shift and both of them already sit at one of the tables close to the counter where Courfeyrac and Combeferre are engaged in their favourite public free time activity - staring at each other.

 _More,_ in this case, entails a woman with hair like a fifties movie star and skin like amber and even if Joly and Bossuet weren’t waving at him she would have been the first person to look at because of her mere _presence_ in the room.

“Hey man!” Bossuet grins.

“Hi Parnasse!” Joly chimes in and his nose twitches. Which is just disgustingly adorable and because Montparnasse is not going to let the adorableness of Joly’s nose win, he walks straight past them.

He gets his apron out of the kitchen, washes his hands and ignores Bahorel and when he steps out again the woman stands in front of the counter and looks at him without a word.

Her eyes are a mixture of green and brown with flecks of gold in them.

Montparnasse looks back.

Courfeyrac nervously looks back and forth between them.   

Montparnasse doesn’t look away and neither does she. It’s like she’s trying to stare right into his soul and doesn’t care what she sees there.

Eventually, after a full three minutes of staring, he extends his hand. “Montparnasse.”

“Musichetta,” she says and her handshake is so firm it hurts a little.

Montparnasse nods approvingly.

 

***

 

“That,” Gavroche says, the red velvet cupcake in his hand momentarily forgotten, “is so _neat._ ”

Musichetta, Joly and Bossuet sit together at one of the tables, Joly has his nose buried in medicine book, Musichetta rapidly types something on her smartphone and Bossuet does a crossword when he suddenly lifts his hand. Musichetta isn’t looking up but slides her cup of coffee to Joly who takes a sip and adds more milk before passing it to Bossuet. Then he frowns. Bossuet hands over his pen. Joly leans forward and scribbles something down in his book. Musichetta pushed his glasses back up his nose before they can slide down. Joly gives the pen back to Bossuet who writes down another word.

Neither of them says a word.

Gavroche stares at them in awe. “Are they like, psychic?”

“Chetta might be?” Courfeyrac offers. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Combeferre looks thoughtful. “Well, there _are_ proven cases of telepathy.”

“You know I love you for even considering that.“

They smile at each other and Montparnasse sighs heavily.

“I’m pretty sure,” Bahorel chimes in, “She has super strength. She totally wrecked me at arm wrestling.”

“Her hair is perfection,” Montparnasse says.

Everyone turns to stare at him.

“What?” He snaps.

No one says anything.

Courfeyrac laughs and it sounds a bit hysterical. Montparnasse glares at him.

“Maybe she’s a superhero,” Gavroche says and Bahorel nods. “Must be. If she can make Parnasse say something _nice._ ”

Montparnasse narrows his eyes at Bahorel with his stupid tailored button up perfectly matching his skin tone and spats, “No one asked you. What are you even doing here? Go back to the fucking kitchen.”

“If I annoy you so much, you go.”

“Oh really? Maybe I will.”

“No one’s fucking stopping you.”

“Great. Because you couldn’t if you tried.”

“Asshole.”

Montparnasse flips him off crudely and storms off. He knows he made a mistake as soon as he opens the door to the kitchen and is faced with so much more of Enjolras’s and Grantaire’s skin than he has ever wanted to see. The first thing his brain processes it that Enjolras is still wearing that stupid red jacket and then he slams the door shut as fast as he can.

He turns around.

“I hate you so fucking much.”

Bahorel raises two fingers in a salute and grins.

 

***

 

When Marius and Cosette come around it’s always a bit of a tie between a good thing because Montparnasse can actually stand Cosette, and a bad thing because Marius is Marius.

Cosette is practising German vocabulary with him when Joly steps up to the counter, chatters a bit with them then asks Montparnasse for a refill and another piece of apple pie.

When Montparnasse slides the cup and plate back at him, Joly looks back at Musichetta who snaps a picture of Bossuet who has a bit of whipped cream from his latte on his nose, and sighs.

“God, I’m so in love,” he says, takes the cup and plate and goes back to join them.

 

Montparnasse lets himself dream of ice desserts without people far and wide.

 

“You know what’s so bizarre?” Cosette asks and rips him away from his happy place. “I can’t even tell who he’s talking about.”

“Both?” Marius suggests with a confused shrug.

Montparnasse’s eyes snap to him.

Because the point is-

“Magnus, that’s actually not a terribly stupid thing you just said there.”

“You know my name.”

“Way to ruin it, Montgomery.”

 

***

 

It makes a lot of sense.

The complex three-headed tangle that they are, of touches and gazes lingering too long, of laughing and smiling and quiet, wistful pining.

It’s painfully obvious.

And painful, just in general.

Montparnasse makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, a groan or sigh or something in between, when Bossuet’s fork with a piece of apple pie pauses halfway to his lips because he is too distracted by Joly throwing his head back as he laughs at something Musichetta says, her eyes bright and sparkling.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jehan says, a sigh in their voice.

He doesn’t have the heart to object.

Brad, the most of the times stoned college kid, is sprawled halfway across a table next to the counter and hums in agreement. Montparnasse can’t tell if he’s stoned or just tired this time and frankly, doesn’t care.

“We have to do something about them,” Courfeyrac announces.

Montparnasse takes a deep breath. “As much as it pains me to admit, you’re right.”

He regrets the words immediately because Courfeyrac’s whole face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree.

“Oh my god, _really_?”

His squealing makes Brad crack open his second eye. “Dude,” he slurs and yes, stoned, “The three of them, man, that would be so sick, they’re freaking hot stuff, bro.”

Montparnasse blinks.

“Get the fuck out, Brad.”

Brad stands up and shuffles out of the coffee shop like a kicked puppy.

“If you need someone to talk to about latent homosexuality, I’m here to help!” Courfeyrac calls after him.

Brad looks very confused by that many words in a row. Courfeyrac gives him a thumbs up.

 

***

 

Turns out that agreeing to help Courfeyrac or at least not be an opposing individual when it comes to setting someone up is a decision Montparnasse should have thought about before making.

But he didn’t.

Which means he is fully responsible for digging his own grave.

Courfeyrac has charts.

Charts. With obnoxious colourful post-it notes.

That, plus the painfully obvious pining of Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta, Marius’s talking and Bahorel’s general existence, has turned Montparnasse life into a living hell.

It’s horror.

He’s probably going to die at a very, very young age courtesy to annoying co-workers.

 

At least he’ll look pretty in a coffin.

 

Bossuet sits at the counter and waits for Joly and Musichetta to arrive.

Courfeyrac winks at Montparnasse and starts, “So. Bossuet. Lesgle. L’aigle.”

The sad thing is that apparently all of these names are a thing.

“Yes?” Bossuet says and Courfeyrac takes a deep breath.

“So, I have a question about, well, a hypothetical situation.”

Bossuet looks slightly confused but smiles encouragingly. “Go on then.”

“Right. Okay, so let’s say, hypothetically, there’s a guy, let’s call him… let’s call him Jean, yeah? So Jean has this super great friend, his best friend, good-looking, dorky, totally adorable. Hypothetically. But Jean _also_ has this other great friend, beautiful and absolutely stunning who gets on very well with Jean’s other friend on top of that. So well that Jean, hypothetically, wonders if there could even be something more to it. And Jean really likes both friends because they’re perfect, and they’re great together and he’s really confused so what, hypothetically, should he do about it?”

Montparnasse wistfully thinks about penguins.

Bossuet looks very confused but then his expression changes and the smile he gives Courfeyrac is gentle and compassionate.

“Courf, I’m really sorry but…,” he reaches out and takes Courfeyrac’s hand. “I don’t think Marius sees you that way.”

Montparnasse takes it back.

Everything.

This is amazing.

This is the best day of his _life._

Courfeyrac blinks. “What.”

Bossuet squeezes his hand. “I mean I’m not going around assuming anyone’s sexuality but he _is_ in a committed and very apparently monogamous relationship.”

“What.”

“I think you really should talk to Combeferre about this if you think you can have feelings for someone else as well as him. Communication is very important.”

“No,” Courfeyrac eventually manage to croak out, horrified. “No, oh my god, no, that’s not - I mean, I wasn’t - there’s nothing wrong - I mean-”

Montparnasse is fucking _delighted._

Bossuet looks at Courfeyrac sympathetically. “It’s okay, everyone is allowed to be confused. I could give you some pamphlets? And of course you can always talk to me or - Parnasse, are you _smiling?!_ ”

 

***

 

“So, I take it your plan didn’t work?” Cosette asks carefully. Courfeyrac insisted they needed back-up.

He blushes and Montparnasse snorts in what might have passed as an amused way. Cosette raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask.

“Not really,” Courfeyrac says, “that’s why we need a new one. I pledge for jealousy. Have someone flirt with one of them so the others have to make a move.”

“You know that you are surrounded by couples,” Cosette notes.

“Well….”

Courfeyrac turns to Montparnasse and doesn’t say anything else.

“What?”

The other man lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug.

Montparnasse face falls. “Oh hell no.”

“ _Pleeeeease._ ”

“No way.”

“Come on.”

“Absolutely not. I don’t _flirt._ ”

“Really, you don’t? Not even with a certain red-haired-”

“If you finish that sentence I will carve your eyeballs out with a spoon and feed them to the very next dog that crosses my way and if it’s that ridiculous pudge Bahorel owns, I. Don’t. Care.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes widen.

There’s silence until Cosette clears her throat. “So, no flirting?”

“Damn right.”

 

***

 

Bahorel places the bowl in the middle of the table where Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta sit together, shoves a spoon into Joly’s hand and says, “You better eat all of this shit, I need customers’ opinions and stuff.”

When he turns around Courfeyrac gives him a subtle thumbs-up.

What follows are five of the worst minutes in Montparnasse’s life because three people who are - for everyone else - obviously in love with each other sharing a bowl of apple crumble with one single spoon is literally the most frustrating and at the same time disgustingly sweet shit imaginable.

There’s laughing and honest to god giggling and Joly complaining about how it’s unhygienic to use just one spoon but it seems terribly irrelevant. Montparnasse is sure if Bossuet’s complexion would be more like Marius’s he’d be as red as Jehan’s hair. They don’t give him the spoon for the fear of eyes actually being carved out accidentally and Musichetta watches with an expression that is as amused as it is fond how Joly feeds Bossuet with apple crumble.

Montparnasse is never going to be able to look at apple crumble, or apple pie or goddamn apples ever again.

It’s outrageous because he’s actually quite fond of apples.

Also it doesn’t even lead anywhere because once they’re done Joly stands up, brings the bowl back to the counter and says goodbye to leave for a lecture.

Musichetta and Bossuet look after him with twin sighs.

Montparnasse wants to punch something.

Or someone.

He glances at Bahorel who is, sadly, out of reach.

“Well,” Courfeyrac shrugs. “It was worth a try. What’s next?”

He looks like a determined, fierce kitten and Montparnasse lets his head drop to the counter with a groan.

 

***

 

Montparnasse has been pretending to dry the cup in his hand for the last twenty minutes so he isn’t forced to stand next to Combeferre and Courfeyrac who’s been staring at his boyfriend with heart eyes for the last twenty minutes because obviously Combeferre got some super high grade on one of his exams which is obviously an invitation for Courfeyrac to tell everyone that, ‘My boyfriend is so smart’ and ‘My boyfriend is going to be the best doctor in the world’ and other things that make Marius’s blush. He hasn’t run away though. Yet.

Montparnasse gives him three more minutes. At max.

Combeferre looks tired and exhausted but also incredibly happy and Montparnasse doesn’t want to know what _he_ would be saying if Courfeyrac had given him the chance to speak. The guy is the most not-vanilla person in cardigans and chinos Montparnasse has ever met.

The door flies open revealing a flushed, out-of-breath Joly with a grin so wide that

Montparnasse fears for an irrational second it might tear his face in half.

“4.0!!” he shouts and then.

Then.

Then he flings himself at Bossuet who manages to stand up from his stool at the counter in the very last second to catch him, and kisses him right on the mouth.

It’s a little off-center and they're both smiling too much for it to last very long.

 

Montparnasse feels his jaw drop.

 

Bossuet pulls away first. “I’m so proud of you, babe.”

Musichetta who is sitting next to him puts one arm around Bossuet’s waist and reaches around him to pull Joly closer to her with the other one. A little bit of her dark lipstick clings to Joly’s lips after she kisses him, softly, her smile bright and radiating.

 

“What,” Courfeyrac says.

 

Or shouts, more accurately.

Montparnasse kind of understands the sentiment.

The three of them look up into what are probably half a dozen gobsmacked faces.

“....what?” Bossuet and Joly ask at the same time.

Musichetta looks at everyone staring at them, and smirks.

Courfeyrac is the first one to regain his composure, or well, some of it. “What- what is going on? I mean, are you...  you’re together? All of you?”

“Yes...,” Bossuet says slowly as if he’s trying to explain something to a preschooler. “We are.”

“Since _when_?”

“Like four years?”

“ _Four years?!_ ” Courfeyrac repeats incredulously.

“Yeah,” Bossuet shrugs. “Isn’t that why you asked me about your feelings for Marius?”

“Your _what_?!” Marius squeaks and blushes so quickly Montparnasse only has to blink once before his skin colour is matching that of his hair.

Courfeyrac makes a choked noise. “No!”

“Courf, I- I’m very honoured but-”

“ _No!_ I mean, I love you, like a brother, like a really handsome brother. But. No. And before you say anything let me remind you that _I_ wasn’t the one who came to my doorstep and said, ‘Courfeyrac, I’ve come to sleep with you’. So pot, kettle.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Marius’s voice is about an octave higher than usual.

“How was I supposed to know?!”

Combeferre and Cosette follow the whole exchange with matching amused expressions.

Eventually Cosette takes pity on both of them and turns to Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta.  “What they’re trying to say is that we’re all very happy for you.”

“Also like, super relieved guys,” Bahorel adds, “I mean we thought you were the worst case of pining ever and like, we know Grantaire.”

“Wait a goddamn second,” Courfeyrac exclaims and then he turns to Grantaire who is sitting at one of the tables in the back with Enjolras. “You knew, you freaking asshole!”

Grantaire shrugs. “Yup.”

“You were very amusing,” Enjolras says with a serious expression.

One day, Montparnasse thinks, he’s going to punch him in his perfect, perfect teeth.

Then, all of sudden, he realizes something.

Which is -  

No.

Oh god, no.

He turns to Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta and can’t keep the absolute, horrified mortification out of his voice.

“Does that mean you’re _always like that?!_ ”

***

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And yes, I plan to write at least one more of these. You're always welcome to say hi and talk to me about grumpy-pants Parnasse and The Love on [tumblr](http://vintage-jehan.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] The Life and Times of a Sullen Coffee Shop Employee (Series)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10988976) by [Sunfreckle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Sunfreckle)




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